10-man Hounds knocked out of GFA Cup by Dunc, 19th Feb 2011
No match report for this game – it was all too depressing. Instead, the Hounds’ long-lost poet laureate (and hack) j_BetjeDAN will lighten the mood with some joyous prose…
Southmead AFC Reserves 3 – 1 Hounds
j_BetjeDAN – Southmead
Come long haired C-Bombs and fall on Southmead!
and its distinctive odour of pungent weed,
Their many chavs and brain-dead dweebs.
and other fellows.
C-bombs, F-Bombs, the language they use
Every resident seems to have a short fuse.
Shit hair, shit parking, shit place, shit tattoos,
Shit minds, Shit people.
It’s not their fault they have to spend
their sorry little lives, in this dead-end.
Where are they from? They sometimes pretend -
Mess up the mess they call a town -
the team they call Sporting Greyhound,
who once a week play on the Downs.
For eleven years.
Southmead managed by the round-headed bloke,
the foul language with which he spoke.
Seemingly unable to take a joke.
A horrid little man.
The game kicks off, Hounds uphill.
Fans on the sideline, some arriving still.
The ‘Mead score early, a bitter pill
for the Hounds to swallow.
A chance, for the Hounds! ‘Keeper on the floor,
Howey with the strike, the crowd they roar,
but the ball flies over, he didn’t score.
Panic! at the back, Craig goes for the head,
attacker runs onto it, get just ahead,
into the box, tackle from Nedved -
Red Card, two nil…
Half-time, game over? The fans think so.
But a team that gives up? The Hounds? Oh no…
Back to the field they boldly go
to try and win.
Cleavo on, Howie gives way,
the Hounds having much the better of play.
But Si’s shooting boots are at home today.
But wait! What’s this? There goes Steve Paul -
He lines it up, he strikes the ball!
It hits the post! Hounds giving their all.
It’s not their day…
And up the other end the ‘Mead attack,
the crowd can sense it, player gives it a smack.
The ball goes in, there is no coming back.
For the Hounds.
One final flurry, a consolation?
Matty scores, showing ‘Little’ elation,
this is no time for celebration.
But we’re proud.
What have I missed? Well, this and that,
Graeme made saves, McMahon’s a posh twat,
Ticko went for a header, their ‘keeper went splat!
On the ground.
Peep! Peep! Goes the whistle, the game is done.
The players have run, and run, and run.
But Southmead win with a score of three one.
Congrats to Southmead for they did play well,
but the real winners? Us. Why? Listen up, I’ll tell.
Because we get to leave this Southmead hell!